


All the Way Home I'll Be Warm

by kototyph



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bathroom Sex, Frank Appreciation of Sex Toys, M/M, More Like the Threat of Exhibitionism Than Anything Else, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, mild exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-05
Updated: 2014-01-05
Packaged: 2018-01-07 12:00:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kototyph/pseuds/kototyph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt "Jensen and Misha go <strike>Christmas</strike> shopping in the mall together." Wherein Misha is only as devious as he needs to be and Jensen regrets everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All the Way Home I'll Be Warm

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ratherbehere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratherbehere/gifts).



> For [deancasxmas](http://deancas-xmas.livejournal.com/) and ratherbehere.

"Well, we have to see if it works, don't we?" Misha asks reasonably, and that right there should have been a tip-off that he had something more in mind than checking the batteries. Jensen's been dating this asshole for months now, he should know better than to trust that feline smirk and a crooked finger.

_Damn_ if it isn't one of the hottest, dirtiest things he's ever done, though, letting Misha pull him into a blacklit changing room and push him up against the mirror. His cheek feels hot against the cool glass and he's more than a little sure the salesgirl saw them come in here, but Misha's grinning like its Christmas again this week and it's hard to protest anything that's getting him this excited. Misha's teeth dig lightly into the nape of his neck while he twists a hand in Jensen's shirt and tugs it slowly out of his jeans, his other hand inching Jensen's waistband down over his ass, and Jensen arches to make it easier for him. Misha's laugh is low and appreciative.

Of course, the man's incapable of being anything less than a filthy fucking cocktease and he plays with Jensen first, getting him all spun up on the gritty drag of dry fingers and sucking bites along his shoulders before a slick thumb starts circling his entrance, pressing in just enough to get him moving into it. Jensen smells peaches, and damn it, that's the lube sample they got with the toy. He'd hoped it would make it to the parking lot at least, but again, Misha.

Misha, who works his thumb in nice and slow and Jensen's quick breaths are leaving a fog on the mirror, hands curling into fists against the glass. The music is loud but it isn't that loud, and Jensen swallows a moan when Misha grinds in deep before easing back, just the first knuckle inside.

"Ready?" he asks, all predatory purr, and Jensen hasn't even gotten a word out before the thumb pulls him open and something a little wider sinks in beside it.

It had looked like a fun little design, a fat, slightly curved vibrator on a slender plug base, and when it snugs up inside him Jensen can already tell it's going to be the exact perfect length. While it's a little concerning Misha knows his inner topography that well, Jensen can't help but bite his lip in anticipation; Misha won't have to even touch him, Jensen could get off just like this, just by—

—by his fucking asshole boyfriend casually flicking the vibe on when Jensen's not expecting it, and his hips buck forward with a barely stifled a yelp of surprise.

"Lowest setting," Misha murmurs in his ear, pulling him back with a possessive grip on both thighs. "How is it?"

"J-jesus fucking _Christ_ ," Jensen stutters.

"That good, hm?" Misha says, planting long, luxurious kisses down his neck. "Say 'thank you, Misha'."

"Fuck you, Misha," Jensen replies affectionately, and the vibration jolts up a notch, hard and fast enough to get him on his toes before it settles back down into a low hum.

"You know, there's no one else back here," Misha says, and it's tempting. Jensen can feel denim rubbing along the inside curve of his ass and he thinks about it for a wild moment, letting Misha press him up against the mirror, maybe with the toy still inside—

Rationality thankfully asserts itself. "I'd prefer a bed, thanks. And it works, great, now t-turn it off—"

Misha laughs, the jackass, and Jensen fumbles a hand back to do it himself, but there's no clunky plastic control meeting his fingers. No wires at all, actually. Jensen meets Misha's eyes in the mirror with a confused scowl.

"Did I mention this model has a _remote_ control?" Misha asks, and Jensen's mouth drops open in horror.

* * *

 

The deal is this: Jensen keeps the vibe in until they get to the car, and Misha finally washes the mountains of dirty yoga pants and weird t-shirts that have been accumulating in Jensen's laundry room since August. Sweet and simple. Especially because Jensen intends to walk straight out of this goddamn store and directly into the parking garage. It'll be ten minutes, tops.

"Hey, Jared!" Misha calls as they pass a storefront, and a diner at one of the swanky French restaurants that dot the mall's upper floors looks up.

Or Misha could serendipitously find the _one fucking guy_ Jensen won't blow off when he waves and bellows across the way, "Hey, come sit with us!" And now Jensen is screwed, so totally screwed, because Jared's there with Gen and her sister and her _mom_ and they all move to a booth so they can sit together and somehow he ends up on the inside corner, Misha scooting in next to him with Gen's sister on the end. Misha is being his amiable asshole self and charming the pants off the in-laws, and Jared is talking earnestly about the Longhorns and the Alamo Bowl, but Jensen can barely hear any of them over the relentless buzz of the vibrator, curled in at just the right angle to make his thighs shake. Jensen tries to shift his legs apart as subtly as possible and nearly goes cross-eyed when the movement grinds the plug into him even harder. Okay, none of that.

Misha's hand lands on his knee and squeezes. Bastard.

Jared's still talking, bless him, with a besotted grin for the woman tucked under his arm. "And we both agreed that if we ever met Mariota in a dark alley I'd steal his wallet while she broke his kneecaps. Right, honey?"

"With a baseball bat," she confirms, smiling sweetly up at him.

Misha's fingers are trailing up the inside of Jensen's leg and Jensen kicks at his foot, forgetting that all Misha has to do is push a button—

Which he does, with his hand high on Jensen's thigh. Every muscle Jensen has tightens up and that only makes it worse, because clenching moves the plug inside him and makes him clench _harder_ , and holy fuck, Jensen's going to come in his pants without a hand on his dick, sitting across from Jared's pretty fiancée in a fucking mall restaurant.

The pulsing vibration slows back down to barely anything, orgasm falling just out of reach, and Jensen wants to scream.

Food comes, and Misha must have ordered a burger and fries for him when Jensen wasn't paying attention. Nice of him, except he keeps bumping the speed of the vibe up and down without warning and Jensen almost chokes on his Coke when it goes from barely noticeable to _sweet Jesus right there right there oh fuck_ in the middle of Gen's rapturous description of her bridal bouquet.

The five of them just keep talking, and Jensen even manages to contribute to the conversation once or twice, but Misha is evil and the batteries on the toy work just fucking fine, and Jensen feels himself break out in a sweat as the plug pulses up and Misha's fingers start to stroke lightly, almost accidentally, up the front of his jeans.

"Hey, I need the restroom," he says in a sudden burst of inspiration, shoving at Misha a little harder that strictly necessary. "Let me out for a second?"

Misha gives him a small pout but dutifully shuffles out of the booth with Gen's sister—Gabby? Annie? God only knows— and Jensen very carefully get to his feet, trying to look and act normal when the entire lower half of his body is a hot throb of want.

He's two feet away from the table when Misha really cranks it and _fuck,_ his knees almost give out, face flaming red because people have got to be able to hear it now, the hum practically rattling his teeth in his skull. He doesn't turn around, doesn't give Misha the satisfaction, just pulls his jacket down further over his rock-hard cock and stumbles through the tables, batting aside the fussy curtains that drape the entrance to the alcove below the RESTROOMS sign.

The men's room has no stalls and one toilet, and Jensen locks the door behind him and palms himself with a moan of shocky relief, hips pumping into his hand to the rhythm of the toy until it drops, _again_ , to a mere whisper of sensation and he swears, slamming a fist into the wall.

Fuck the deal, and fuck Misha, this thing is not staying inside him another second. He staggers over to the sink and yanks open his fly, dragging his jeans to mid-hip and bracing himself with one hand on the edge of the sink while the other slides back to find the lube-slick base of the toy.

The doorknob rattles. Jensen jerks, then yelps, "Hey! Occupied!" when it starts to turn. He swears he fucking locked that—

Misha's pocketing a paperclip as he slips inside, and Jensen doesn't know if he's impressed or enraged.

"You motherfucker," he says, because that about encompasses it all.

"You love it," Misha says in blithe certainty, and relocks the door behind him.

Jensen's trying to get his pants back up when Misha plants a hand between his shoulder blades and bends him over the sink, cold porcelain digging into his stomach while he grabs for the metal fixtures.

"What—?"

"Stay," Misha says, "please?" and Jensen lets his forehead fall against yet another mirror with a defeated groan.

"Just— I want to come. Now."

"I think I can manage something," Misha says, drawing a finger down the arching line of Jensen's spine. "Sorry, Jen. You make it so hard not to abuse you."

"Oh, fuck y— _fuck!"_ Jensen gasps, as Misha gets two fingers around base of the plug and tugs. "Shit," he groans, trying to spread his legs wider. "Shit, come on, I've had a hard-on for _hour_ s—"

"It's been _one_ hour, if that," Misha says, sounding amused, but there's a faint click and the vibration pulses fractionally higher.

"Misha," he whines, and Misha nuzzles the small of his back.

"More?" Fingers find the sweat-slick hollows where Jensen's hips meet his thighs and grab him there, pulling Jensen back into him, and it takes Jensen's lust-addled mind a moment to realize that hot, sliding pressure he feels is Misha rubbing the length his bare cock up the cleft of Jensen's ass and the slick plug, over and over again, when the hell did he even get his pants down—

Jensen's wound almost too tight to speak, but if he could he'd be calling Misha things a lot worse than cocktease. " _Mish,"_ he manages.

"Sorry," Misha says again, and at least he's started to sound as out of breath as Jensen, the apology gravelly and low. "You have no idea what you look like, do you? Ass in the air, shirt all bunched up, jeans down to your knees... just begging for my dick, aren't you?"

"Shut up," Jensen says weakly.

"Could take the time to open you up," the vibe notches higher and Jensen pumps his hips into empty air with a harsh gasp, "fuck you, _really_ fuck you, until you _really_ can't walk straight and Jay knows exactly why you took so long in here—"

Misha's more grinding into him anything else now, folding over Jensen to smooth a hand down his trembling stomach and _past_ his twitching cock, fuck Misha, fuck everything, to cup his balls in a warm palm. "Bet you'd like that, wouldn't you, Jen?" he murmurs into his ear.

Jensen grits his teeth. "I'd like it if you got your fucking act together and— _ah!"_

"And?" Misha asks, like he actually expects an answer when he's nudging a finger in alongside the plug, which is kicking and buzzing at the highest tempo Jensen's felt yet.

"Jesus fucking— _fuck,_ Misha, please, please I can't— I'm gonna—"

Two fingers, hooking down, and the plug riding up against him so hard it should hurt, and it does hurt but it feels so fucking good, especially when Jensen forgets everything but the need to come and bucks back onto those twisting fingers like he is riding Misha's dick.

Misha pants out, " _Fuck_ , Jen, holy fuck," and fumbles for Jensen's achingly stiff cock, barely has his hand around it before Jensen folds in half with a bitten-off cry, slicking his hand and the floor with come. It doesn't seem to end, the maddening vibrations of the toy driving him up and up and _up_ until he's making the most embarrassingly desperate noises, jerking and shuddering under Misha's hands.

"Fuck, _yes,"_ Misha moans, and _yanks_ it out of him, and Jensen crumples like a puppet with cut strings, hanging onto the sink for dear life.

Misha mutters something profane and distracted, both arms around Jensen's waist now as he rubs his cock between Jensen's thighs, hard and fast. He's close, but it takes Jensen turning his head, catching the edge of his mouth in an awkward, dirty kiss for him to come, shuddering and sighing Jensen's name.

Jensen's on his knees on the floor of a public restroom, he has come all over his pants and he has a _complete asshole_ for a boyfriend. But when Misha catches his shoulders and urges him to turn around, smile broadening before he goes for a deeper, more lingering kiss—

Well, Jensen can't help but feel the world is looking pretty damn rosy from here.


End file.
